


When In Athens

by atheldamn



Series: Prompts & Requests [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex, Tumblr Prompt, that's about it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheldamn/pseuds/atheldamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They hadn’t drawn the curtains completely before they’d gone to bed. Through the gap, bright dawn sunlight streamed, cutting across the floor and shining on dust dancing in the still air of Grantaire’s bedroom. It was quiet, too, save for broken snippets of birdsong. It was barely 7, and though Grantaire still slept, Combeferre was awake."</p><p>(not set in Athens)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When In Athens

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this post](http://switchtaire.tumblr.com/post/115668953630)!
> 
> Mostly posted here because it's way too long for tumblr.

They hadn’t drawn the curtains completely before they’d gone to bed. Through the gap, bright dawn sunlight streamed, cutting across the floor and shining on dust dancing in the still air of Grantaire’s bedroom. It was quiet, too, save for broken snippets of birdsong. It was barely 7, and though Grantaire still slept, Combeferre was awake.

When Grantaire slept, he both sprawled limbs across the bed, and stole any available covers for himself. He was perhaps the worst person Combeferre had ever shared a bed with, and yet he didn’t mind. He only had one blanket left to himself, but he was warmed by the sun. 

He stretched and yawned, and Grantaire, disturbed by the movement, rolled onto his side and shuffled closer to him, muffled, sleepy noises coming from the back of his throat. His face was still beautifully relaxed, and Combeferre stroked his hand idly through his hair, tucking curls behind his ear. The corners of Grantaire’s lips twitched, and Combeferre paused, not wishing to tickle him and wake him up, but he quickly relaxed again, humming something that sounded positive. 

Grantaire needed to shave. He was starting to look even more like a man who lived in a log cabin and chopped his own wood than usual. And he could do with a shower, his hair losing its shine and sorely in need of a good brush. But when he was asleep, there was no frown between his eyebrows, no downward turn to his lips or wrinkle along his nose. His features were smoother. Combeferre wasn’t sure how long he lay dozing, unwilling to get up and leave him, but the sun eventually climbed to Grantaire’s face, and then he was unable to look away. The golden light made his olive skin shine, shadows lifted. He looked healthier, and five years younger. He was even more beautiful, enough that Combeferre’s chest ached.

“S’wake?” Grantaire mumbled, his eyes squeezing tighter shut against the glare of the sun. He shifted, and in doing so, curled closer to Combeferre.

“It’s nothing,” he replied quietly, laying his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “It’s early, go back to sleep.”

With a nod, Grantaire shifted just enough that a shadow lay over his eyes, and he relaxed again. Combeferre kept his hand where it was, Grantaire’s skin warm beneath his cool fingers, for a little while, but soon, without even thinking about it, he began stroking his fingertips over him. First, he traced his arm, curled between them on the bed, then he lay his hand over his ribs and waist. Grantaire whined quietly as he skimmed his hand back up his side, and blearily, he cracked open one eye, tipping his head back.

“Sorry,” Combeferre said quickly, stilling his hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

In response, Grantaire made a noise that sounded something like shushing. He cleared his throat. “Kiss me,” he mumbled, barely audible. It took Combeferre a few long seconds to understand what he’d said, but when he did, he smiled and leaned forwards. First, he brushed a soft kiss against Grantaire’s lips, lingering for only a second before pulling away. Both Grantaire’s eyes were shut, a soft smile playing over his lips. Under the blankets, Combeferre felt a hand press against his chest, then curl into his t-shirt, tugging softly. Combeferre acquiesced with pleasure, leaning in and kissing Grantaire with more purpose.

The kiss was slow and unhurried, lazy and warm, and Combeferre slipped his hand beneath Grantaire’s head, arm around his waist. With gentle pulls, Grantaire moved closer to Combeferre, until they were pressed together beneath the blankets, wrapped up in one another. Combeferre could feel the press of Grantaire’s arousal against his own, but there was no rush. Neither of them felt even the slightest need to push or touch. Gentle brushes of teeth and tongue were enough, Grantaire’s responses lazy and slow like he was still half asleep. 

Combeferre reached for the blankets and tugged them up to both their necks, and against his lips, he felt Grantaire smile.

“What?” he asked, bumping his nose against Grantaire’s.

“You woke me up for sex,” came the dopey reply, Grantaire slipping a hand beneath Combeferre’s shirt and resting against his hip, and curling a leg over the top of Combeferre’s.

“Not at all,” Combeferre said, affronted at even the thought. Grantaire laughed softly against his lips.

“M’not complaining,” Grantaire purred, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Combeferre’s boxers. Combeferre’s next breath was shaky, Grantaire’s fingers cool against his hot skin. In lieu of replying, Combeferre caught him in another kiss, ignoring the second muffled laugh. A bite to Grantaire’s lip quickly shut him up. 

Under the blankets, Grantaire’s hand ran up his skin, fingers moving to his back and tripping over his spine. Goosebumps rose on Combeferre, and he shivered, pressing himself closer to Grantaire. The man’s hands were cold, and his skin prickly and hot. Grantaire’s soft laugh was more a breath of hot air over his cheek and neck, but they continued kissing, not wanting to move away from one another, lips caressing over each other lazil. He didn’t move to remove Combeferre’s top, though. That would involve far too much movement.

Grantaire slept naked, and while his hand was preoccupied with Combeferre’s back, Combeferre took the chance to slide his hand down Grantaire’s chest. Beneath his touch, Grantaire shifted, his leg tightening around Combeferre’s, and he made a soft, wanting noise against Combeferre’s lips. He didn’t touch him, though. The angle was too awkward.

“Turn over,” Combeferrre mumbled, breaking away from the kiss reluctantly and appeasing them both by nudging at Grantaire’s chin until he turned his head up. He nuzzled, more than kissed, Grantaire’s neck, and felt the soft hum from his throat. Grantaire untangled himself from Combeferre slowly, his movements unhurried even though Combeferre could feel how aroused he was against his thigh as he moved. Combeferre kept a hand on him, and mid-roll, as his hand rested over the centre of his stomach, Grantaire paused to stretch. He didn’t open his eyes.

Combeferre pressed himself flush behind him, using the hand on his stomach to gently pull him back. Quietly, Grantaire hummed as he felt Combeferre’s arousal press up against him, but he said nothing, where usually he would have had some quick quip to throw at Combeferre. His breathing was slow and deep, like he was on the verge of going back to sleep.

“Where’s your condoms, R?” Combeferre asked, awake enough to be safe. He pressed his lips to the back of Grantaire’s neck, tasting salt, nose in his hair. Grantaire shrugged. “You don’t have any, do you?” Grantaire shook his head.

“Lube… under the bed,” he mumbled, rocking his hips back temptingly against Combeferre. He sucked in a breath. “Be creative. When in Athens…”

“It’s ‘when in Rome’,” Combeferre corrected with a smile, pressing a last kiss to the base of his hairline before pulling away to fumble beneath the bed.

“Greeks were more gay,” Grantaire mumbled into the pillow.

Under the bed was a mess of junk and flotsam and jetsam, and Combeferre despaired for a moment before he spotted the bottle almost directly in front of himself. Of course, it wouldn’t be too far away. Grantaire used it often enough.

Setting it on the bed beside him, Combeferre wriggled himself out of his underwear, dropping it on the floor. Grantaire was silent beside him, save for slow, rhythmic breathing, and Combeferre wasted no time uncapping the bottle and pouring cool liquid into his hand. As he wrapped his hand around himself, he gasped, torn between pushing up into the grip and pulling away from the cold. He was more aroused than he had realised, though, and pushing up won, stomach contracting as he rocked up into his fist.

A quiet moan escaped him, and he closed his eyes, lost temporarily in the sensation, before he heard a grunt beside him, and remembered Grantaire. The man had turned to look over his shoulder, watching with bleary interest.

“Am I interrupting?” he murmured, smiling, and Combeferre pushed himself to sitting to lean over and kiss him softly, lingering for a long moment and swiping Grantaire’s lip with slightly more tongue than was necessary.

“Lay back,” he said, and Grantaire did with a huff. Combeferre grabbed the lube and placed a little more in his palm. He stroked his dry hand down Grantaire’s side, and the other hummed, shifting beneath his touch. A mumble that might have been ‘please’ fell from Grantaire’s lips, and Combeferre obliged, tapping his thigh so Grantaire would raise it. 

He spread the lube between Grantaire’s thighs, between his cheeks, along his cock, and Grantaire whined high in his throat as his hips shifted, trying to get Combeferre to take hold and to give him the little friction he needed. Combeferre was quick, though, making sure he was slick before resting his wet hand on his hip and laying back down behind him.

“Together,” he muttered against his shoulder, and Grantaire closed his legs. He pressed the tip of his cock against the backs of Grantaire’s thighs, just enough so he could feel it, and waited just until he could feel Grantaire getting impatient before pressing forwards, high up so he could feel all of Grantaire against him. The man moaned softly, rocking backwards, and Combeferre kissed along his shoulder as Grantaire moved.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, and he could see the blush along his neck. Grantaire simply mumbled nonsense in reply.

Reaching around, Combeferre took his cock in his lubricated hand, and pressed himself back up against him so that they were touching along every inch of their bodies. It was hot beneath the blankets and under the sun, and neither of them could move much, but neither wanted to, wanting to be wrapped up in the other, wanting to stay close and intimate and entwined, sharing each other.

Grantaire was not silent, a litany of grunts and soft moans and mumbled half-words falling from his lips as Combeferre stroked him in time with his gentle thrusts. He reached an arm behind himself, laying his hand on Combeferre’s hip, fingers twitching as his breath hitched. He was close already, Combeferre could tell.

He grazed his lips against his shoulder, and Grantaire shivered. He felt his thighs tighten around him, and Combeferre gasped, pulling him closer even though they could no get so.

“I’m close, Combeferre,” he breathed, like he could not find his voice, and Combeferre nodded, rocking his hips into him with more force and twisting his hand over the end of his cock. Grantaire moaned brokenly and came. Combeferre felt his orgasm through his own cock, the tension in him cresting and snapping, and he moaned as Grantaire twitched and tightened around him. His hand kept stroking him until Grantaire whispered to stop as he tried to catch his breath.

Combeferre made to move away, but the hand on his hip tightened, holding him still.

“Please… want you to… use me…” Grantaire said, rocking back against him and whining softly at the oversensitivity. Combeferre hesitated for barely a second before wrapping his arms around his stomach and over his shoulders, kissing behind his ear. He revelled in the smooth slide of his cock between Grantaire’s legs, and it wasn’t long before he too shuddered through his orgasm, coming over him like a long low wave and wringing him out completely.

His arms stayed around Grantaire, though they loosened considerably, and Grantaire turned still in their confines to press a soft kiss to Combeferre’s forehead.

“Love you,” he mumbled, smiling. “Now I’m going to fuck back to sleep.” Combeferre laughed quietly.

“I won’t wake you.”

“You can wake me like that however many times you like,” he murmured, tucking himself against Combeferre. It wasn’t long until his breathing slowed again and he fell asleep in Combeferre’s arms.

The sun had moved, lighting up the wall above their heads, and Combeferre pulled the dislodged blankets back around them. He too drifted off, clutching Grantaire to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://atheldamn.tumblr.com)


End file.
